Begrimed
by Ishie
Summary: Jayne, after Canton.
1. prologue

_"and his face and hands are dirty with gunpowder and begrimed with the loading of guns"  
_Charles Dickens, Bleak House  
**--------**

**before**

They're a week out of Canton when Mal announces they'll be setting down on a small moon for resupplying soon. He makes it clear that they're only going to be in the world long enough for him and Kaylee to go into town. It sounds good to Jayne – he's been feeling itchy and restless ever since... Well, for about a week now.

The night before they land, at dinner, he starts to ask Mal if he can tag along but can't get the words past his throat. He don't really want to go into town, anyways. It's a dry moon, not a bar or tavern on the whole gorram rock, and he can't even work up the energy to get excited at the prospect of getting some trim.

– _rough skin and hands messy hair breath on his neck m'hero she slurs_ –

That makes him feel even more itchy, like his skin don't fit right anymore, so he just keeps shovelling protein mash in his mouth while everybody else talks about what they need from the stores. The doctor passes a list to the captain with a bunch of them medicinal names on it and Mal tells him that that sort of thing is pretty scarce round these parts. Wash and Kaylee have their heads bent together, talking about a bunch of parts they want, all with big names like protoaccelerator and transmogrifier or whatever. It don't make no sense to Jayne but it sounds awful _gāo jià_. Book, Inara and Zoe all throw out a few things they want – mostly foodstuffs. That moonbrain just sits there grinning at everybody after she tells 'em she wants a "ledger for the reckoning", whatever the hell _that_ means, and colorin' pencils.

Jayne finishes eating before anybody else and stomps over to dump his plate on the counter. It's his turn to clear up the mess but he ain't gonna wait for them all to finish. Being around all them people is making him start to feel crowded.

Mal catches his eye as he passes by the table again and lifts an eyebrow. Jayne just grunts something back at him. He's not sure what he said and he don't much care either, but it must've been all right 'cause Mal just nods and turns back to arguing with the doc.

Jayne can feel all their eyes on him as he goes into the hallway, eyes pressing down on the back of his neck. He starts walking faster and ducks down the first ladder he comes to. He was gonna go to his bunk, maybe write a letter to his ma or something, but right now he just wants to get away from them eyes. As far away as he can in this ruttin' _ guàn tou_ anyways.

– _big eyes under a mess of blonde hair big wide trusting staring_ –

He wanders around the ship a while – making sure cabinets are closed and locked, that the straps holding down the mule are tight enough, that everything's as it should be exceptin' for that _gou shi_ they got in Canton, he ain't going near that stuff unless he has to – until the voices start getting louder and closer. He waits down by the Infirmary until he hears a couple of bunk-hatches open and close and figures that everybody's finally done eating, so he heads up to the galley to finish his chores. He passes Book on the way there and the preacher looks like he's gearing up to say something but Jayne just keeps walking.

The lights are off in the galley so he walks through the dim room until he's close enough to the counter to flip on the lights there. He knows they're low on fuel cells and he doesn't see the sense in lighting up the whole room when he's only gotta clean up the kitchen. He scrapes leftovers into a dish, then covers it tight and puts it in the icebox. Somebody's already stacked up the empty plates, so he pitches them in the disposer along with all the wrappers Kaylee left spread out all over the counter. He gathers up the knives and forks in a loose fist and rattles them around. The tinkling sound reminds him of home, suddenly, Pa playing spoons on the porch on one of the rare nights he wasn't drinking half his pay down at the bar.

– _stood up to the Man and he gave him what for_ –

Jayne shakes his head to clear out the memories that are crowding in all sudden-like. He never was much for mooning over the past. What's done is done and there ain't nothing nobody can do about it, just like his momma used to say. He finishes wiping down the counter and hangs the wet rag on the little rack by the sink, flips the light off and makes his way through the dark room once more.

Lifting weights 'til he can't hardly keep his eyes open seems like a right smart idea. Push up the bar and push back _the voices all them eyes that gorram statue _yuben de _kids bleeding into the mud eyes staring up up up... _

He never dreams no more. Or maybe he does but he don't remember 'em but that's thinking kinda stuff and Jayne Cobb don't do that.

He can't do that.

--

Jayne's sitting cross-legged on a small patch of scrubby grass just underneath _Serenity_'s port ion jet, some of his girls spread out on a cloth in front of him, when he hears something behind him. It's soft, quiet-like, but it don't sound threatening, so he ignores it. Probably just some little critter looking for lunch. He picks up the Buhnder – he ain't got around to naming this one yet, seeing's as he liberated it from that _hún dàn_ back on New Canaan right before they made the pickup on Higgins' moon and he's been a mite bit distractible since then.

Checking over the gun carefully, he looks for anything he might've missed when he stowed it in his locker. Some folk just don't take care of their weapons like they ought. He notes a few small scratches along the barrel, a missing screw in the grip and a hell of a lot of _gou shi_ clogging up the barrel. He only brought out the small cleaning kit and she's gonna need a lot more time than he thought, so he sets her back down with the others. Plus, there's something that just don't sit right with him about breaking her down before he knows what to call her.

He doesn't pick up another weapon right away. Instead, he skims his hands over their hard bellies, stroking along barrels and sights like he's gonna learn 'em all by touch. They feel cool under his fingertips, but they'll warm up soon enough – the light on this moon is bright and hot on account of the two suns shining down. There's a cool breeze that snakes under the ship's belly, ruffling his pant legs a little and flapping up one edge of the cloth on the ground.

He slides one of the rifles – Myra – off to the side to hold the cloth down and sits back. None of his girls really needs cleaning, anyways, 'sides the Buhnder. He takes good care of 'em. Too much polishing – that's about all they need – and he'll wear out the finish, have to find a good smith to reblue 'em. Money's starting to get awful tight lately and he don't much like the idea of not having everything to hand when he needs it. Ever since they picked up the doc and his _sāng xīn bìng kuáng_ of a sister, they've run into more trouble than they'd normally see in a month of Sundays.

Not that he minds that sort of thing, he thinks with a ghost of grin. Nothing like a good fight to take the edge off. It's been a while, too, since the last one. Jayne doesn't count what happened in Canton; that was just anger or some such boiling over and it left a bone-deep weariness that he can't seem to shake. He feels off-balance deep-down, like some of his innards shifted position. He's never been much for sitting around with the rest of the crew, but lately he can barely even stand to sit at the same table with 'em for meals. So here he is, sitting out on the grass, waiting for the captain and Kaylee to come back from town like some ruttin' kid waiting for his folks to tell him what to do next.

Everybody's been giving him these long, weird looks outta the corners of their eyes when they think he don't see 'em – well, everybody except the moonbrain. She just straight-up stares at him whenever they're within 50 paces of each other. Hell, sometimes he thinks he can feel her eyes on him when they're on opposite sides of the ship with all them bulkheads between 'em. It's gorram creepifying, he ain't ashamed to say. When that little girl locks them big eyes on him, it feels like she's crawling around inside his skin.

The rest of 'em are just as bad as her with the staring, even if they at least try to hide it a little. None of 'em got the sense God gave a goat when it comes to letting things alone. He said his piece to Mal when they got back to the boat after Canton and that's that. They ain't really tried talking to him about what happened but he knows they're talking about it when he's not around. If they ain't, then maybe there's something he should be worried about 'cause conversing comes to a halt whenever he walks into a room. And all them looks seem to slide into something else when they've got his attention. Preacher keeps offering to talk with him. Zoë just sits and watches him, but her hand's never been farther from her gun than it has been the past week.

Kaylee's the worst of the lot. Her face goes all soft when she thinks he ain't looking, like somebody just tore the legs off her favorite wobbly-headed doll. She keeps finding reasons to corner him and touch him and stuff. Nothing like what Jayne might want from a girl as cute as her, just pats on his arm like he's the family pet. Not that he wants that other kinda touching from Kaylee, really. When he first got on _Serenity_, sure, he entertained a thought or two about tussling with the girl. Awful hard not to notice all them curves and that sweet face underneath all that grease. Be damn near impossible to keep her body out of his head on them nights when the black starts to creep in around the edges – not that he'd ever admit to such a thing. Most of the time he thinks of her like a little sister. Hell, even when he does start thinking about putting his hands on her, parts of him is disgusted by it. She's all sweetness and ruffles and pretties – too gentle and soft for hands and ways as rough and dirty as his.

Jayne waves off a fly who's fixing to land on the barrel of his favorite piece. She's a genuine Wéi Le Mat revolver and the oldest of his girls. She belonged to his grammy years before he was born and was just about the only thing he took with him when he left that _cháo shī_ piece of rock. That gun – Lenore, he calls her, after his grammy – has got him out of more than a few tight spots and he don't go hardly anywhere without her strapped to his thigh.

He picks up Lenore and her weathered grip slides into the crease in his palm like she was made to be there. She's worn a place in his hand that always seems to fight his other guns a little bit, like maybe she's jealous of 'em or something. He squints up one eye and checks the sight, then turns the gun from side to side to check for any new scratches or dings. There's a bit of grass clinging to the barrel and he blows it off, then licks his thumb so he can rub off the little bit of dust that's left behind. The tang of gun oil floats on his tongue.

Satisfied with how she looks, he stretches out his legs and settles on his back, Lenore cradled on his chest. He stares up at the bulk of the ion-jet and the bright blue sky beyond. Some clouds drift by and a fuzzy memory floats around the back of his mind – him and Matty watching the shapes tumble across the sky. He suddenly remembers that he hasn't heard from his ma in a while and sends up a half-forgotten prayer that they're all doing okay.

The soft, cool breeze whispers over his body and around his head and his eyes start getting all droopy. He fights it for a while, wants to stay alert, make sure nothing's creeping up on 'em even on this _bù máo_ moon. He tightens his grip on Lenore and puts his thumb right on her safety in case of something does happen even though Zoë's probably no more than two dozen paces away he looks up to the sky again his eyes are drifting closed the weariness is spreading out from his bones...

He tumbles into sleep.

**tbc...**

* * *

Translations:  
_gāo jià - _expensive  
_ guàn tou - _tin can  
_gou shi _- crap  
_yuben de -_ stupid  
_hún dàn - _bastard  
_sāng xīn bìng kuáng _- lunatic  
_cháo shī - _damp  
_bù máo _- barren  



	2. one

**A/N: Thanks to Culf for reminding me that this was unfinished! The third part is up now as well, with more to come.

* * *

**_Wo xi wang ni man man si, dan kuai dian xia di yu!_

Lenore was aimed and cocked before Jayne even had his eyes all the way open.

He was pointing the revolver at empty space – which was a real good thing considering the weapon weren't even loaded. He blinked a few times and looked around, but he was still all alone under the ion jet. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a few bullets and dropped them into the chambers. Safety back on, he tucked Lenore into her customary place in the holster strapped to his thigh but didn't close the thumb snap. If something or someone did pop up, he didn't want to waste even a fraction of a second on undoing it.

The hair on the back of his neck was crawling something fierce, but another scan of the area showed that he was the only person around. Probably the only person for miles, not counting the folks tucked up safe in _Serenity_'s belly. He would've chuckled at himself, for spooking like a green kid, if it weren't for the fact that he was so gorram unsettled.

He'd definitely heard something, _someone_, talking, but who or what it was he couldn't say. Sad fact was, that particular phrase had been hurled at him any number of times in the past few decades and hearing it wasn't exactly something you'd wanna remember. Assuming you lived to remember anything at all.

Plus, all them people who'd said it were dead now. All dead by his own hand.

Jayne got to his feet and started gathering up his girls and tucking them into the bag he'd been resting his head on. He looped the rifles over his shoulder and stuffed the cloth under it. Then he realized that when he picked up the bag of guns, he wouldn't have a hand free to get to Lenore should the need arise.

Swearing loudly, Jayne dropped the cloth to the ground then awkwardly crouched down to cram it in the bag. The rifles slung over his shoulder threatened to slide down into the dirt. He grabbed for their straps, misjudged how far they'd shifted and promptly fell straight on his ass.

A breath of sound floated on the wind from behind him and for the second time in less than five minutes, Jayne found himself staring down Lenore's sleek barrel. Only this time, he was staring _up_ the barrel at an upside-down ship and there was someone square in his sights:

That gorram crazy girl, giggling like the _sāng xīn bìng kuáng_ she was.

Prancing up and down Serenity's cargo ramp, her raggedy skirt was twirling around her legs as she moved to music only she could hear. At least Jayne assumed it was music. She looked sorta like she was dancing, if by dancing you meant throwing your arms and legs all over the place like a man that just got kicked in the head.

He rolled onto his stomach and tilted his head, considering. No, that wasn't what it looked like at all. She looked more like one of them kabuki dancers, but faster and more graceful, if that was even possible.

He tucked Lenore back into the holster and got to his feet as the doc came walking down the ramp toward the girl. He was moving real slow-like, creeping up on her like he was afraid she'd startle and run if he moved too fast. The girl was pretending to ignore him, but she kept dancing just out of his reach whenever he got close.

Jayne snorted as he finished picking up his gear and started toward the ramp. Girl was _feng le_, sure, annoying as hell too, but she weren't dangerous. Hell, her whole body was about as big around as his arm – wouldn't be no thing to take her down if'n she did start to get rowdy.

He walked around the edge of the ramp, giving the doc and the girl a wide berth, and headed up into the ship. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the dark cave of the cargo bay, after the bright twin suns outside. Without slowing down, he headed for the nearest set of stairs, his mind already on the tools he'd need from his bunk to give the Buhnder a thorough cleaning. Before he was halfway there, though, the intercom crackled to life.

"Jayne? You back on yet?" Zoë's voice echoed through the bay from a couple of different speakers.

He changed directions with barely a hitch in his stride and hit the 'com button. "Yeah, 'm here. What's up?"

"Cap'n just called. Said they're on their way back. Might have company." There was a tight thread of tension running through her words and Jayne felt the coils in his belly loosen just a bit. Maybe he'd get that fight after all.

"He say who?" Jayne dropped his bag and one of the rifles before he'd even finished the question. He was already digging in one of his pockets for the mag he'd tucked in there before heading outside.

"Didn't say. We got any folks lingering outside?"

He glanced over his shoulder to where the doc was still trying to sweet-talk his sister into coming back inside. "Yeah," he growled. "I got 'em."

Zoë didn't bother to respond. She was probably halfway to the cargo bay already.

Jayne thumbed off the intercom and turned toward the ramp.

"Get back on the gorram ship!" he bellowed.

The doctor spun around, eyes wide and mouth working like a fish. Like a really stupid fish. His hands just sorta dangled at his sides like he'd forgotten they were still attached.

The girl giggled and tapped her brother's chin. "_Bào tóu shǔ cuàn_!"

"Yeah, what she said," Jayne muttered. "We got us some company comin'."

The doc hurried over to his sister and tried to grab her arm, no doubt thinking that dragging her off to hide was the best plan. She darted out of his grip though and skipped over to Jayne's side.

He ignored her and bent down to pull a knife and sheath out of his boot. Better to have it close to hand, in case this 'company' wanted to start something. He tucked them both in his waistband.

The familiar ripples of adrenaline were just starting to skim through his veins. His muscles loosened and his mind slowed as he got ready to face whatever Mal might be bringing back to the ship. He barely noticed that the girl was standing so close that the sleeve of her sweater was brushing against the hair on his arms. He heard the door to Inara's shuttle open and then Zoë's voice, quietly telling the Companion to get back inside.

He moved to the open doorway and looked out. Nothing was moving outside, except the grass and the leaves as the wind pushed across the open plain. He could hear the mule's engine somewhere off to the south, but it didn't sound like Mal was pushing it too hard. He also didn't hear any other engines, which meant if somebody was coming with 'em, it was either on the mule with 'em or riding on horseback.

Zoë moved up next to him, her sawed-off clasped loosely in one hand and swinging against her leg. "Cap'n didn't sound worried, just slightly pissed. Might be nothin'."

Jayne grunted. "Yeah, but it's always somethin' with him, ain't it?" He saw a tiny smirk whip across the lines of Zoë's face for just an instant before it smoothed back into her take-no-shit warrior woman mask.

The slightest brush of fingers on his arm had him spinning to his right. The girl was standing close enough to him that he could count all the lashes around her big eyes, if'n he wanted to.

"What the hell d'ya want?" he blustered, to cover the fact that he hadn't noticed that she'd moved forward with him.

"Noah didn't want a hunter on the Ark at first, but he made a mistake. Needed someone to keep the rats in their hole." She stared at him for a minute and then backed away, still managing to dance just out of her brother's reach. "Picked him up before the flood. Saved him."

She whirled away, skirt tangling against her legs as she skipped down the length of the bay, her brother following right behind.

Jayne turned his back on them and settled Lenore in his hand. The cool weight of her weathered grip grounded him, reminded him of the situation at hand. "What the hell ever," he growled. He could still feel the moonbrain's eyes on him.

Zoë held her shotgun up to shoulder height and pumped it as the whine of the mule got closer. "Reckon she might have a point there, Jayne. Every boat needs a good rat-catcher."

He didn't know how to respond to that one, so he just kept his mouth shut and his body loose. A small grin slipped over his lips, though.

_Hunter_, he thought, as the mule slipped into view. _I like the sound of that._

**tbc...**

**

* * *

**Translations:  
_wo xi wang ni man man si, dan kuai dian xia di yu__ - _I wish you a slow death, but a quick ride to hell  
_sāng xīn bìng kuáng _- lunatic  
_feng le - _crazy**  
**_bào tóu shǔ cuàn__ - _scurry off like a frightened rat


	3. two

The mule was coming up fast over a slight rise just to the south of where _Serenity_ was parked. Mal and Kaylee were sitting in the front seats and it didn't look like either of 'em was bleeding or clutching at injured parts. It didn't look like anybody was in the backseat, neither, but they were still a little too far out to see if somebody might be laying down or something back there. There weren't any riders following behind, so Jayne nodded at Zoë and moved down the ramp a ways.

One of the first things they'd worked out back when Jayne came aboard was a signal for when things went south. _Jī dū_, as often as Mal managed to get humped out on a job, he was surprised they didn't have one before. 'Course, the captain and Zoë had all them army signals between 'em and could practically have entire conversations without saying a word, but Jayne didn't have none of that shared experience. Made him all different kinds of uncomfortable to know that he wouldn't always be able to size up a situation in a glance, what with the way those two kept everything so closed off and their faces all blank. Plus, sometimes the captain insisted on Wash or little Kaylee taking part in their jobs, and Jayne'd felt a whole lot more comfortable knowing them two had a way of communicating with the rest without igniting the situation any.

Kaylee was using the signal now, just three fingers touched to her head like one of them army salutes. To anybody else who might be watching, it just looked like she was greeting them that was waiting at the ship, but for Jayne, it clenched up muscles he didn't even know he had. She was telling him that there was an extra passenger riding with 'em. He heard Zoë swear under her breath behind him. He raised a hand like he was waving the mule home, two fingers up like that old peace symbol from Earth-That-Was. Mal and Kaylee would see it and know that him and Zoë were the only two people visible when they pulled up. It also meant that they didn't have no backup inside the boat yet.

"Put the gun back on your hip, Jayne," Zoë ordered him from behind. "We play this casual 'til we figure out what's going on. I'll let our folks know we might need an extra place at the dinner table."

Jayne nodded and slid Lenore back into her holster. He slipped the rifle's strap over his head so it lay against his chest like a bandolier. Be a touch easier to swing the rifle around his back and into his hands that way.

He heard Zoë flip the intercom switch and then her voice was echoing throughout the bay. "Wash, honey, might wanna get 'er ready. Looks like we got company comin'. Shepherd, if you could see your way clear to evenin' up the odds a bit, I'd much appreciate it."

The pilot and the preacher both responded that they were on it. The preacher added that the Tams were holed up in the engine room.

"Good. Tell 'em to stay there until one of us comes to get 'em," Zoë said, her tone clearly meaning that she wasn't taking any chances with them two. "Inara?"

"I'm ready to help in any way I can, Zoë."

Jayne snorted. What was she going to do, seduce whoever it was into not being a threat?

"Just stay in your shuttle for now. Keep the 'com line open to Wash; he'll be listening in on whatever happens down here," Zoë responded.

Wash's voice came crackling out of the speakers, just the slightest bit of fear coloring his words. "'Course I will, _bǎo bèi_. _Zhù yì_."

"Always am."

Jayne couldn't help but be a little impressed at how calm they were during the whole exchange. He knew Zoë was a cold-as-ice soldier-lady, but Wash tended to be a bit more excitable, unless he was flying them through all manner of obstacles. Every time the little man managed to not turn into a gibbering monkey when things got rough, he wanted to pinch himself to make sure he was awake.

"I said 'casual', Jayne, not 'look like you're gonna rip everybody's head off'," Zoë sounded almost amused. Well, as amused as she could get with her captain coming in fast with unknown dangers in tow.

Jayne made an effort to loosen his stance a bit, relaxing muscles he'd barely even realized were tightening, letting go of the rifle strap as he did so. He kept his hand hovering over Lenore's grip, though. Some things – like not looking menacing – just didn't come natural to him. He moved to one side of the airlock chamber and leaned up against the bulkhead, trying to look like he was lounging there. He was starting to feel itchy, something he hadn't realized had stopped until it started up again.

Zoë mimicked his stance against the opposite side of the airlock chamber, her shotgun dangling down at her side like she forgot it was even there. Jayne glanced back into the cargo bay and caught sight of Book leaning against the rail on the catwalk nearest the empty shuttle. He squinted a bit, trying to see if the preacher was packing but the bright sunlight at his back didn't extend all the way up into the shadows.

"So, you wanna talk about why you're being a mite bit unfriendlier than usual this past week?"

He glared at her. "Now's the time you wanna be bringin' that up?"

"S'there a better time for you?" She stared him down, same calm mask on her face as she always had when they was fixing to start up a fight. Her eyes, dark like the moonbrain's, didn't eat away at him the way the girl's did but he felt them pressing in on him all the same.

He shifted from one leg to the other and dropped his hand down on Lenore's grip. Zoë's eyes flickered down for an instant but came right back up to his. Her stance didn't waver at all, still all tense and ready without looking it. Her fingers didn't even tighten on her shotgun.

"Can't stop thinkin' 'bout that gorram statue. Botherin' me some's'all," he mumbled. He couldn't look her in the eye no more so he shifted his gaze to the mule, which was less than fifty yards out and starting to slow down some. He felt more than saw her turn in the same direction.

"You ain't the only one's seen or done things they'd rather forget, Jayne..."

The rest of her response was drowned out as Mal shouted to 'em from the mule.

"Guess who we ran into today?"

Jayne pressed himself up against the wall as the mule roared up the cargo ramp. As it passed by, he got a sunny smile from Kaylee – who looked downright cheerful for someone holding a gun on a man who was all curled up like a bug and moaning something fierce in the back seat.

He quickly swung the rifle into his hands and took a few steps toward the vehicle. "What in the ruttin' hell's goin' on here, Mal?"

On the other side of the mule, he saw Zoë doing the same but she kept her mouth shut. Mal powered down the mule and took his gun back from Kaylee before climbing out. He tucked the pistol into the holster strapped to his thigh and, after a look between 'em, Zoë dropped her shotgun down to her side again.

Jayne didn't let his aim waver none. He kept the man's head square in his sights while he waited for somebody to explain to him what in the hell was happening. Kaylee clambered over the side of the rig and dropped to the deck next to him. He reached out with one hand and made to shove her behind him. She twisted out of his grasp, quick as a cat, and reached into the backseat to pluck a couple of bulky engine parts from behind the man's legs.

"Gorrammit, girl, get out the way!"

"It's okay, Jayne." Mal held up a hand. "This _fei-fei de pi-yan_ ain't gonna be makin' a nuisance of himself any time soon. Ain't that right, Kaylee?"

"Sure as shootin', Cap'n." She tilted her head to one side as she hugged the chunks of metal closer to her chest. "Caught him right 'tween the legs when he grabbed for me. He ain't goin' anywhere, lessen it's for a big ol' bag of ice or the like."

Jayne winced in sympathy. Weren't no pain in the 'verse like a swift kick to the goolies. He let the nose of the rifle droop a little on account of there was no way the man was making any sudden moves anytime soon.

"So who is he, sir?" Zoë stole the words right out of his mouth. Except for the 'sir' part.

The captain grinned at her and walked around to relieve Kaylee of a few of the parts. "One o' Bernoulli's crew. Seems they took exception to our takin' the scenic route to the drop. Sent this poor _hún dàn_ to make sure we didn't try nothin' funny. Figure we can drop him off same time as we drop off the cargo." Mal started walking to the back of the cargo bay. "Zoë, you wanna grab that box o' provisions, take it up to the kitchen?"

She nodded and dropped her shotgun on top of the box before hauling it out of the mule.

"And the injury, Captain?" Shepherd Book was making his way down from the catwalk and tucking his ever-present Bible into the crook of his folded arms.

"Hey, don't look at me!" Mal retorted. "That was all little Kaylee's doin'. I was just tryin' to be … businesslike and peaceable."

Kaylee, Zoë, Jayne and the preacher all snorted as one. The man in the mule gave a gut-wrenching groan.

"You was bein' 'bout as peaceable as a dog fightin' over a scrap of meat, Cap'n," Kaylee piped up. She explained to the others, "He was jus' 'bout to reach for his gun when the guy tried t' grab my arm. Didn't want us to get stuck here on account o' the cap'n killin' nobody, so I took 'im down quick as I could." Her grin got even bigger as she said it.

Zoë nodded her approval. "Quick thinkin', Kaylee." She glanced over her shoulder at the mule. "Good kick, too, looks like."

Jayne had to fight the urge to cover his nuts with his hands at the look on both the women's faces. Downright scary how fierce they both looked all of a sudden.

The captain punched the intercom button with his elbow. "Wash, take us out."

"I didn't hear any blood-curdling screams, so I take it that everybody's in one piece?"

"_Āi_, that we are. Your wife'll give you all the gory details, soon's she's done in the kitchen, I'm sure."

Zoë just gave him a look and started up the stairs, the preacher right at her heels. Mal and Kaylee followed right behind 'em, leaving Jayne all by himself in the cargo bay.

He looked at the man, who had moved on from groaning to whimpering.

"Guess it's jus' you 'n' me, now, huh? I reckon there ain't much more hurtin' I can put on ya." Jayne raised up the rifle again, a tight smile twisting up his lips and baring his teeth. "Care t' find out?"

**tbc...

* * *

**Translations:  
_jī dū - _Jesus Christ  
_bǎo bèi_ - baby  
_zhù yì_ - be careful  
_fei-fei de pi-yan - _baboon's ass crack  
_hún dàn - _bastard


	4. three

The smells floating on the recycled air from the galley were driving him insane. He inhaled deeply – the heady scent of meat and some kinda root vegetables being roasted and just the tiniest little bit of… Was that _butter_? Real, from a _cow_, creamy, salty, melting all over the plate _butter_? About the third time his belly grumbled, he bared his teeth at the man hog-tied at his feet and growled. 

"I swear, if I miss lunch on account o' yer scrawny ass, that little kick Kaylee gave ya's gonna feel like a bugbite."

The man just stared up at him. He'd stopped moaning and whimpering while Jayne dragged him out of the mule and tied him up and had now moved onto stony silence and hate in his eyes. Didn't bother Jayne none. He'd gotten worse from better.

Jayne stomped over to his bag of weapons and propped Myra up against the nearest crate. With a flourish, he pulled the knife out of his waistband and held it up in front of him. A little over ten inches long and made of the hardest steel in the 'verse, he'd picked this beauty up after a job back when he was still running with Marco. They'd taken a week in Asham to patch up their holes – both in the boat and their bodies – and Jayne had taken to wandering through the bazaar when he wasn't drinking or chasing trim. Freaky little man at one of the booths had sized him up, gibbered in some dead old language from Earth-That-Was and pulled this bit of shiny from under a red rug. Cost him near every bit of coin he had in his pockets, but she was worth the price a hundred times over.

He called her Inez, which sounded near enough like what the little guy kept babbling at him.

She wasn't the biggest knife in his collection, nor the prettiest, but she was the wickedest. Scared that clumsy Alliance mole bad enough he tried to lie when he clearly hadn't got the talent for it, didn't she? Saved his own ass on enough occasions – most times just the sight of her was enough to scare the piss outta any man.

Bernoulli's stooge weren't no different. Soon as the lights of the cargo bay started winking off Inez's long blade, the man started up with the whimpering again.

"Aw, shut it. Ain't gonna cut you none." Jayne turned the blade a little so the light reflected right into the man's eyes. "Lessen the cap'n wants me to, that is."

"Won't be necessary, I think, Jayne."

He looked up to see Zoë heading towards him from the door to the passenger lounge. "You sure 'bout that? Man did give Kaylee a little scare back there in town… Figure maybe we teach 'im a lesson 'bout puttin' his hands where they ain't wanted?" He turned to look directly at Zoë so the other guy couldn't see his face and gave an exaggerated grin.

"Seems to me that'd be a fine lesson for this man to learn." Her face was as calm as her voice, but there was a look in her eyes that told Jayne she maybe wouldn't mind dishing out the lesson herself. "But, the captain said no touchin' – and I assume he don't just mean with hands."

"Gorram shame. Inez ain't tasted blood in near a week." Jayne inwardly flinched as the words come tumbling out of his mouth.

Zoë's steps faltered a bit at the reminder of what had happened back on Canton, but at least she didn't start up with that creepifying stare again. Instead, she said, "Cap'n said to store your gear and get on up to the table. I'll make sure our _guest_ is comfortable in one of the spare passenger bunks."

Something about that didn't sit right. _Where was it that the doc 'n' his sister holed up? Be just our ruttin' luck for this miserable _hún dàn_ to find out we got two fugies on board and go tattlin' to his boss…_ "Ain't the–"

"_Now_, Jayne," Zoë interrupted before he could say any more. "Everybody's waiting lunch on you."

"Since when do any of 'em wait t'eat?" he muttered, as the first part of what she'd said sunk in. "Oh. _Everybody_." He gave a tight nod as he re-sheathed the knife, picked up his gear and walked away. He heard a stifled gasp at something Zoë did to their guest and let loose a little snort: this would probably be the last time the _bái chī_ underestimated any woman.

Halfway up the steps, Jayne started to think maybe he ought to give his bunk a pass and just head straight on into the galley. The dark, rich smell of flesh and butter had him near to drooling and it ain't like they never seen his guns before. Mal might get pissy, but tough shit. Could hardly expect a man to think straight when faced with his first real meal in who knows how long.

By the time he made it to the upper deck, his mind was made up. His girls had waited this long to get properly stowed; they could wait a little longer.

Jayne stepped down into the galley and nodded at Mal, who was just crossing to the table with a bowl piled high with steaming potatoes. "Couldn't wait no more – smell o' that butter's drivin' me _fēng le_."

"Reckon it'll do that to a man been living on protein all these weeks." Mal smiled as he sat down but it didn't reach all the way up into his eyes. "You lock all that up soon as you're done eatin', _dǒng ma_?"

He didn't bother to respond – he'd just noticed there were only two empty seats at the table: one next to Wash that was meant for Zoë and one smack dab between the fugies. Why they wasn't sitting right next to each other, he didn't know, but he'd be damned if he was going to sit between them for a whole meal.

Just as he was about to stomp out to his bunk, he caught sight of the pan Kaylee was passing to the doc and his knees fairly buckled.

It was a whole roasted chicken – and not one of them scrawny birds like you'd normally see on a moon the size of this one. This was ten pounds if it was an ounce, big enough that it was almost spilling out of the pan they'd cooked it in. He hadn't seen a bird that big since dinners at his ma's table when times were good. As if in a daze, he shed the rifles and bag and sank down into the chair next to the doc.

The moonbrain babbled something at him but he didn't even hear her. All his attention was focused on that crisp, brown, juicy bird as the doc passed it into his hands. Somebody'd already carved her up and Jayne watched as a fat bead of grease slid down into the exposed shoulder joint. He grabbed a drumstick and a couple of thick chunks of breast meat and slapped them onto his plate before passing the whole thing to the girl on his right.

Gorram thing smelled so tasty he couldn't even pretend at being civilized and use a fork. He hefted the drumstick and sank his teeth into the tender meat, groaning as he did. The thing damn near exploded in his mouth, juice running over his tongue and dribbling down his chin a little. He rolled the meat around in his mouth, sucking on the skin, savoring the salty taste. Whoever'd done up the bird, they'd put some of the preacher's spices on it along with a healthy amount of butter. It practically melted in his mouth.

When he finally bit down into the meat, he thought he was going to start whimpering, right there at the table.

Vaguely, he realized that he wasn't the only one. Not a one of 'em at the table was doing anything but chewing and moaning and groaning.

Well, all except the crazy girl. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw she was playing with a tiny scrap of chicken on her plate and looking at everybody with them big eyes.

It would be a rutting shame for her to waste even that little piece of meat, so Jayne nudged her none-too-gentle with his elbow and asked, "Ain't ya gonna eat that? I got more'n enough room on m'plate, if'n ya don't." He should have waited until he was finished chewing to talk. He watched with more than a little sadness as bits of half-chewed chicken went flying all over the table.

One piece landed right next to the bowl of little potatoes he'd completely forgotten were there. Sticking the drumstick in his teeth, he pushed his plate forward and dumped a couple of spuds onto it. They rolled around crazily, leaving soft golden trails of butter in their wake. He tore off another bite of chicken and this time he did whimper a little as the taste burst over his tongue.

Kaylee giggled around a mouthful of food. "Sounds like one o' them 'pleasure palaces' in here!"

Everyone broke up laughing, except Jayne, who was busy chasing a wobbly potato around his plate, and Mal, who yelped, "I don't wanna know how you know that!"

"Kaylee," Wash moaned, one hand clasped to his heart, the other around his fork, "were I not a blissfully married man, I would kiss you right now. How did you _find_ all this stuff?"

"Easy as pie, that's how! While I was waitin' for the cap'n to finish up his business, the pudgiest little kid you ever did see went runnin' past me. Followed him on home an' asked his momma where was th' best place in town for food an' she jus' pointed at her front door. Ten minutes later, I'm headin' back to meet the cap'n an' luggin' a box full o' the best food I seen in _ages_." Kaylee paused to grin at all of them. "An' speakin' of pie… She gave me one o' them, too!"

"A_men_," said the preacher, and everybody laughed again.

Except Jayne, who had finally managed to spear the stubborn potato and was licking off the butter before he stuffed the whole thing in his mouth. His eyes rolled back in his head as he chewed. How the hell he was supposed to go back to eating that foul-smelling protein mash after this, he didn't know. Meal like this was the sort of thing a man expected for his very last.

He felt a little shiver snake down his spine at the idea.

"Feed the body, feed the soul. Feel the hunger, feel the hole," the girl at his side whispered. "You should patch it up."

He whipped his head around to look at her but her gaze was fixed on the chicken she had speared on her fork. She snarled at it and then popped it in her mouth, another one of them crazy smiles twisting across her face.

Jayne shuddered as that little shiver came back up his spine and straight on into his head. Gorram creepifying. There was enjoying your food like a normal person and then there was whatever the hell she was doing. He tried to inch his chair away from her without anybody noticing, but she sort of _swayed_ in his direction as he moved. Deciding that ignoring her was the best plan, he turned his full attention to his plate and ate as quickly as he could.

Pie or no, he wasn't sticking around any longer than he had to.

He was just wiping up the last of the butter with a chunk of chicken when Zoë sat down next to Wash. She and the captain shared a look and Wash said they'd be arriving at the drop within a couple of hours. Talk turned to the job, just like always, and Jayne felt the muscles in his back tighten up every time somebody mentioned moving the cargo they'd picked up on Canton. He'd be glad when them gorram crates were far behind them.

**tbc...

* * *

** Translations:  
_bái chī - _idiot_  
__fēng le - _crazy_  
__dǒng ma - _understand?_  
_


End file.
